


The Lowest Esteem

by sancallisto



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, Gen, LBD Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sancallisto/pseuds/sancallisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if George Wickham had, in fact, attended the Netherfield shindig...oh, the drama that would ensue!</p><p>(My response to Prompt #12 of the LBD Ficathon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12: George Wickham does end up attending the Netherfield party to spite Darcy.

**Prologue**

 

 

**The Lizzie Bennet Diaries: Battle Plan Failure – Ep. 47**

_I, Lizzie Bennet, have always been one to trust my instincts. Others—Jane, Lydia, Charlotte, my parents, to name a few—often (actually, more like repeatedly) inform me that my first impressions are woefully incorrect. And sometimes, yes, my dear loved ones are right. I can be wrong about people, and in most cases, I will admit it._

_Although, let’s not forget that one time where Jane went out with this guy, Jacob, in her biology class in high school, and I thought my dear sister was “outside her ever-loving mind” because the guy was…well, I don’t actually remember my reasons, but I had them! Anyway, after they went out on three—count ‘em, **three** —dates, before each of which Jacob would bring Jane _ **and** _Mom both flowers—_

 

          “Jane! Who even does that anymore?”

 

           “I think it’s sweet!”

 

          “Yes, but who brings flowers for your mother too?”

 

          “He does, Elizabeth Bennet. Now, hush!”

_—And after each of which he would bring Jane promptly home at curfew, Jacob somehow figured out that he was, in fact, gay. He and Jane actually remain good friends to this day._

_So, even though my dart didn’t hit the bullseye, at least it made it onto the freaking dartboard, Jane!_

_So, I suppose I should have guessed that my instincts might not necessarily fail me, but maybe, just maybe, be a little, well…off. Because, dear viewers, if you had told me that I would be coming home from Bing Lee’s birthday party with an actual **shiner** , I just…yeah, I’m not sure how anybody would respond to that. _

_Yes, I know you all saw it from the moment you started watching this video 30 seconds ago. I thought the internet could afford me 30 seconds to give you some kind of lead-in, some means of explanation. And while my instincts, or lack thereof, did not **cause** this…well, they definitely played a part.  _

_I thought last night might be chaotic in every possible way—my mother meddling in Jane’s love life, Darcy being his normal disagreeable self, Lydia ending up in a corner making out with a guy I’ve never seen before and wearing less clothes than when she arrived at the party…_

_Don’t get me wrong. All of those things actually happened last night. But I didn’t think anyone would leave that party physically injured! I have a black eye! This was not expected!_

_Am I trapped in a bad coming-of-age movie? Or perhaps a Katy Perry music video?_

_That’s…distasteful._

_Besides the most obvious outcome of the night—which I will explain, by the way—I acquired some much needed details about certain events that transpired between two men, one of whom I had held in the highest esteem and the other I had held in, possibly, the lowest. Remember those instincts I was confidently bragging about earlier?_

_Perhaps, boys and girls, sometimes, I can be a little bit…erroneous?_

_I can’t share with you all the specifics that I learned last night. Some of them are enormously private, and while I’m pretty public on this vlog, there is a line. And I’m attempting not to cross it._

_So, I have decided that I will take what I have observed and otherwise gathered last night and, perhaps, learn from it._

_My name is Lizzie Bennet, and I owe somebody one hell of an apology._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I found this prompt to be really intriguing. I have always wanted more interaction between Wickham and Darcy, but see, I understand why we don't have it. Wickham is a coward. He would *never* come to the party at Netherfield. He would never confront Darcy. So I think Wickham will be slightly out of character in this AU because he has to be in a certain state to come to this party and wreck a bit of havoc.
> 
> Hopefully, this havoc is believable. I'll do my best.
> 
> I also believe that Wickham coming to this party would completely change the entire Pride and Prejudice story. So there's that.
> 
> This should be updated consistently over the next few weeks. It should be about five chapters total.
> 
> So enjoy the fun!


	2. I Was Promptly Ditched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12: George Wickham does end up attending the Netherfield party to spite Darcy.
> 
> \-----
> 
> *Separated areas in italics are Lizzie's elaborations on her videos. Just as an FYI if that's confusing.*

**I Was Promptly Ditched**

 

The party was in full swing—or rather, full proper, sophisticated, stately swing—when the Bennet family arrived at Netherfield on the evening of Bing Lee’s birthday celebration. Ms. Bennet swooned predictability when Bing greeted them in the foyer as Mr. Bennet shook his hand amicably and commented on the grandness of his home.

 

Lydia, having been the first of the Bennet sisters to enter Netherfield, was giggling incessantly, her excitement getting the best of her.

 

“And the party peeps would be…?” she asked Bing impatiently as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

 

Their ever patient host smiled down at her and pointed to a long corridor toward the east wing of the mansion. She squeaked, kissed him on the cheek, and bounded off down the narrow hallway, her skirt fluttering behind her.

 

Lizzie and Jane, the last of the Bennets to walk through the doorway, stood slightly away from their parents and waited for the pleasantries to end, something that Lizzie knew could take more than the traditional few minutes.

 

\------

 

_Because, you know…my mother…_

_\------_

 

“I don’t think I can handle this,” Lizzie whispered to her sister as she observed their mother continue to dote over poor Bing.

 

“It will be fine, Lizzie,” Jane chastised gently, her hands smoothing the fabric of her thin summer dress before lightly clasping together in front of her. Her actions were one of a girl who was nothing short of contented and self-assured. Lizzie was one of the few who knew how truly anxious Jane was to be in Bing’s company again.

 

“This was the worst idea ever,” Lizzie said, whispering so softly that Jane suspected those words weren’t meant to be spoken aloud.  

 

“It wasn’t your idea.”

 

“No, it was the worst idea in history made by anyone ever.”

 

“Now, I know you know that’s not true,” Jane said meaningfully, turning to her sister and staring at her with large, doe eyes. “The Titanic, Watergate…acid wash jeans…”

 

“Interest on student loans…Communism’s pretty bad.”

 

“Eighties fashion.”

 

“Eighties anything, really.”

 

“See, there have been many worse ideas than going to this party tonight.”

 

“The theatrics comfort me,” Lizzie conceded, crossing her arms around her belly.

 

Jane smiled at her sister who was truly younger than her in so many small ways and simply answered, “I know.”

 

\-----

 

_Not for the first time, Jane’s optimism did nothing to better my attitude about the night. Yes, I love her, and I knew that she was so excited about spending time with Bing. I just couldn’t shake this feeling of…is “impending, unavoidable, stick-my-head-into-the-ground-until-the-sun-comes-up doom” too dramatic?_

_Perhaps._

_Regardless, the only thing that kept me at that party was the promise of George Wickham’s company to help me fend off the general awkwardness that would likely ensue without him there._

 

\-----

 

The pleasantries between Bing and the Bennets finally came to an end. Bing pointed the way to the north end of the house where other adults could be seen conversing and eating small hors d’oeuvres offered to them by the perfectly-tailored waiters moving about the ballroom. Lizzie sighed at the sight but, upon having caught Bing’s attention, pasted an airy smile onto her face and exchanged kind greetings with him. Smiling widely, he turned to catch Jane’s eyes from under her thick lashes.

 

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, captivated once again by Jane and her benevolence.

 

“It’s so good to see you,” she breathed, her smile shy but bright.   

 

Before the pair could exchange any more words, the doorbell rang to signal the arrival of more party guests. Jane’s smile faltered only slightly before she recovered gracefully and told Bing to attend to his guests. As Jane pulled her down the east wing corridor, Lizzie glanced back to see him staring somberly at their departing figures. Or rather Jane’s departing figure.

 

“I’m sure you’ll get to spend time with him later,” Lizzie reassured her sister once she had quickened her pace and caught up with her. Sometimes, it amazed her how long Jane’s legs were.

 

“He has to welcome everybody. He’s just being a good host.  I should have expected it,” Jane said, shaking her head.  Her tone was light, but the edges of her smile were heavy against her dimples.

 

“C’mon. You can spend time with me…” Lizzie began before seeing a flawlessly-dressed brunette waving enthusiastically and making her way over to them, “…and Caroline, apparently.”

 

“And Darcy,” Jane added, smirking as she glanced at Lizzie.

 

\-----

 

_And when I say “she smirked,” I mean her eyebrow moved slightly downward when she mentioned Darcy’s name. My beautiful Jane never actually smirks like the rest of us mere mortals. But it was there and I saw it and she wanted me to see it, that precious, little minx!_

_But yes, there was Darcy, who was following Caroline rather reluctantly._

 

\-----

 

Upon entering the small ballroom, the Bennet sisters were greeted by the slow bass of a band playing in the far corner. In front of the removable stage, a large, wooden dance floor, stretching across the room, was littered with couples moving to the leisurely rhythms of the music. Long tables with individual food stations were finely decorated with white linens and elegant displays.

 

A large bar, fully stocked (and anxiously awaiting someone’s consumption), caught Lizzie’s attention as she took in the room. Only Jane’s polite glare prevented her from sprinting toward it.

 

“Elizabeth Bennet, I am _so_ relieved that you have finally arrived!” Caroline exclaimed with a proper air and a sly grin.    

 

Lizzie just stared at her as Caroline moved to stand beside her and link their arms.

 

“You are?” she asked, her tone skeptical.

 

“Well, of course,” Caroline said, turning her attention to the eldest Bennet sister. “Hello, Jane.”

 

With Caroline and Jane engaged in a polite, possibly-strained conversation, Lizzie finally noticed Darcy lurking a few steps away from them.

 

\-----

 

_“Lurking” may be a bit of an exaggeration, but Darcy looked so damn uncomfortable. Why does he always look so uncomfortable?_

_And I was already enraged by what he did to George that—I just—ugh. Carrying on…_

 

\-----

 

“Hello, Darcy,” Lizzie said amicably, her smile tight-lipped.

 

“Lizzie,” he replied, his discomfort evident and his smile equally strained. “How are you this evening?”

 

“I’m well. And yourself?” she said almost mechanically.

 

“Good. Thank you.”

 

Darcy never seemed capable of getting past the small talk. His supposed animosity towards her always seemed to rule the conversation. Lizzie took the awkward silence between them to study his mannerisms. He shuffled slightly from side to side, but his posture remained perfect as always. His hands remained stuffed in his pockets of his black slacks, and at a glance, it appeared evident that he desired to be anywhere but there. However, closer observation revealed that while he was, in fact, uncomfortable, he was still giving Lizzie his full attention.

 

“Lizzie,” Darcy began, his face tight but determined, “did you happen to read that article on—“

 

A flurry of shiny, brown hair and a piercing voice interrupted him.

 

“Lizzie, Bing mentioned earlier that he would just love for Jane to meet some of his college friends. Since Bing is still performing his hosting duties, do you mind if I steal your lovely sister away from you for a few minutes?” Caroline said decidedly, leaving little room for debate.

 

“Of course,” Lizzie said, furrowing her brow. “Jane can go where she wants.”

 

Gripping her hands together in front of her, she watched as Caroline pulled her compliant sister toward a group of a dozen guys near the bar. Lizzie took the distraction as an opportunity to scan the room for Lydia or George. Predictably, the youngest and most vibrant Bennet was nowhere to be found, and it quickly became evident that Lizzie’s only motivation for even coming to this party hadn’t arrived yet. It took her several more seconds before she realized that Darcy was still standing near her. He had quickly become her only company in the entire ballroom. 

 

“Would you like a drink?” he offered, clearing his throat.

 

“No,” she said, distractedly, “Sobriety seems like the wisest course of action at this point in the evening.”

 

“You predict trouble, then?” he asked, his tone questioning.

 

“The entire Bennet clan at Netherfield with full access to an open bar?” Lizzie said, her voice low. “I don’t predict it, Mr. Darcy; I expect it.”

 

Seeming to think it wise to just not answer her, Darcy merely hummed, smoothed his tie, and turned to stand beside her against the wall of the ballroom. With Lizzie having very little desire to carry on any conversation, the pair, standing in silence, watched the other guests and the spectacle of general merriment. Although Caroline had disappeared, Lizzie could still see Jane talking to Bing’s college friends near the bar. Unsurprisingly, she was charming them all, but Lizzie wasn’t worried about that particular Bennet sister and her actions.

 

“You haven’t seen Lydia, have you?” she said, asking more as an obligation as an older sister rather than wanting to actually talk to the brooding man beside her.

 

“I haven’t had the good fortune, no,” he replied. He glanced at her briefly before looking out into the ballroom once again. “Would you like me to find her for you?”

 

Surprised, Lizzie raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“No, that’s alright,” she said. As an afterthought, she added, “But thank you.”

 

The tension finally broke when Darcy, seeming frustrated with himself, turned abruptly to her and asked, “May I request a dance…with you?”

 

\-----

 

_Did he really want to go through “The Most Awkward Dance Ever” extravaganza again? As riveting as it was the first time, I wasn’t much inclined to experience it again._

_But then I started to ponder the fact that I had been ditched or, possibly, stood up by everyone else, and the only person who could be bothered with my company was Darcy. So I was weak and caved._

_I have no dignity._

 

\-----

                                                                                       

“I…um…sure, Darcy,” Lizzie answered, her expression neutral.

 

Darcy, too, showed no reaction as he followed her across the ballroom to the dance floor. When the uncomfortable pair passed the bar, Lizzie glared in her sister’s general direction and hoped to catch her attention.   

 

\-----

 

_Dammit, Jane. Dammit, Caroline. Dammit, George._

\-----

Darcy made no attempt to take Lizzie’s hand as they maneuvered around the throngs of people that filled the luxurious space. Letting her lead the way, he merely followed her, his apparent modesty keeping a sizable distance between them.

 

Neither seemed to notice when they reached the middle of the dance floor. As the band began playing a new song, the speakers humming on either side of them, Darcy offered Lizzie his hand. The invitation seemed to startle her out of her stoic state of mind but only just enough to get her attention. Flashing him a tight smile, she took his hand. She was surprised that their hands weren’t sweaty from the general awkwardness surrounding them and this dance. Darcy grasped hers within his own and laid his other hand along her waist gently as if not to startle her.

 

His grip was firm and strong but not in an unwelcome way. Unexpectedly comforted by his perfect posture and solid frame, Lizzie relaxed slightly as they began to sway to the melodies of the band. Because of their height difference, the pair didn’t make eye contact.

 

\-----

 

_We chose instead to just ignore each other. Because that’s what two people dancing together do._

 

\-----

 

Lizzie chose instead to watch the other couples around them. More people had gathered onto the floor since she had first arrived. While the music could only be described as “refined,” the pairs dancing around them looked relaxed and happy. Lizzie sighed softly at the six inch gap between her and her dancing partner.  

 

A voice startled her out of her reverie.

 

“What was that?” she asked.

 

Darcy cleared his throat and continued, “I asked if you thought this was a nice party.”

 

“Oh,” she said, looking up to meet his eyes. “Yes, it’s very nice. Maybe a bit stuffy, but nice.”

 

His eyes, appearing anxious for just a moment, darted around the room quickly before meeting hers once again.

 

“A lot of people worked hard to pull this together,” he explained. “Bing and Caroline had to order nearly everything from out of town.”

 

“That must be nice to have little worker bees,” she said, frowning.

 

Taken aback slightly but not willing to relinquish the conversation with her, Darcy continued, “They employed people to prepare this. I’m sure everyone involved would desire for all of the guests to enjoy themselves.”

 

“I just…why hire someone when it’s just a party? You don’t need to run a herd of workers ragged to pull that off,” she argued sharply.

 

“Why do it yourself when you have the means to provide other people with sizeable compensation that would improve their livelihood and get their brand out there for others to see and, possibly, later use?”

 

“It’s arrogant.”

 

“It’s economical.”

 

“It’s patronizing,” she said, her voice rising.

 

“It’s not,” he replied, his tone firm. “These employees are proud of the work they do. How is their work any less deserving of being used than what you or I do with our careers?”

 

Neither one of them seemed to notice that they had stopped swaying to the music. Fuming, they stood silently in the middle of the dance floor and ignored everything except for the contempt they seemed to hold for each other. While their movements had been stilled, the couple continued to hold each other. Lizzie could still feel the heat of his hand on her waist.

 

The tension was broken by a chipper voice over Darcy’s shoulder.

 

“How are ya, Peach?” 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the world gets a little bit more AU...
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos and comments are appreciated!


	3. I'm Usually so Good with Words

 

  
**I'm Usually so Good with Words**  

 

 

“How are ya, Peach?”

 

George Wickham’s voice, its quality as silky and self-assured as ever, floated smoothly over Darcy’s shoulder. However, its tone was slightly snide, which confused Lizzie to the point that she wasn’t sure she’d heard any voice at all. The nickname, usually considered an endearment, suddenly had an abrasive undertone that had never been apparent before tonight.

 

Lizzie wrote it off as a reflection of her own discomfort and sour mood.

 

Meanwhile, Darcy’s entire stature had grown stony and cold, his frame rigid from obvious discomfort and contempt.  Lizzie felt his hand tighten slightly around her own, but neither one of them let go. His gaze remained locked on her face as if waiting for her cue. As if waiting to see if she wanted him to stay with her or leave her with George. And Darcy, being the gentlemen that he was, would do what she pleased. It unnerved her to notice the compliance and subtle protectiveness in his face.

 

After more time than was probably necessary, Lizzie tore her gaze away from her dance partner and flashed the man behind him a strained smile in an attempt to appear as a good-natured optimist rather than the overtly analytical cynic that she certainly was.

 

“George!” she managed. It was a wonder any words came out at all.

 

\-----

 

_And I’m usually so good with words._

 

\-----

 

“Hey, mind if I cut in, Will?” George asked, her tone casual but purposeful.

 

Lizzie furrowed her brow at his loose use of the nickname but said nothing. She waited for Darcy’s response but quickly realized that he was still watching her face and waiting for a sign to leave her there on the dance floor with a different partner.

 

“The song is over,” she offered Darcy as a quiet answer. He pulled his chin up and stared at a spot across the ballroom above her head as he sighed softly and released her.

 

\-----

 

_Maybe this was just one of those occurrences that you aren’t capable of actually comprehending until later, but George’s abrupt arrival and subsequent “rescue” left me more unsettled than I cared to admit at the time. I…well, Darcy and I were arguing rather heatedly, yes, because that’s what we often did. We disagree with each other. All the time._

_You’d think I would’ve been more excited to see the person who I never disagree with.  Don’t get me wrong; I had been happy to see George. I knew I would smile and laugh and, generally, be merry in his presence._

_But I suddenly felt oddly hollow without Darcy’s hand on my waist. What an infuriating man._

_I told you there’s a bad coming-of-age story in here somewhere! I just know it!_

 

\-----

 

Darcy, looking dispirited, took a step away from her and bowed his head slightly as if to formally recognize their parting.

 

“Thank you for the dance, Lizzie,” he said politely. He didn’t seem to see the need to acknowledge his old acquaintance. “I hope you enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

 

Stunned, Lizzy merely stared as he turned and walked briskly across the dance floor and disappeared behind the crowd. As George moved to stand in front of her, she realized rather belatedly that her hands were playing with the hem of her skirt.

 

“I think I almost curtsied,” she mumbled disbelievingly.

 

“What was that?” George asked as he smoothed his hands down her arms before grasping her own. His touch was warm along her bare skin.

 

“Oh, nothing,” she replied as she attempted to pull her mind to the man in front of her. “I’m glad you’re here. I thought you might've bailed on me.”

 

Taking another step toward her, George placed her hands firmly on her waist and tugged her forward. Since both of his hands remained on her waist, Lizzie quickly found that her arms had only one place to go. With their chests now flush against each other, she wrapped them loosely around his shoulders.

 

“Nah, I told you the good Mr. Darcy couldn’t keep me away,” he said, his smile easy and comfortable.

 

His remark recalled something in Lizzie’s memory.

 

“Will? You call him ‘Will?’” she asked belatedly.  “Or rather, he _lets_ you call him ‘Will?’”    

 

George chuckled and glanced in Darcy’s general direction in slight distaste. “I do it more so to mess with him. He hates it. I really have no earthly idea why. His name’s William, for God’s sakes! It makes sense! He’s always been so uptight that I naturally must take every opportunity I can to loosen him up a bit.”

 

“I’ve never seen Darcy loose.”

 

“And chances are, you never will.”  

 

She hummed in assent before moving on to more worthwhile topics. “Well nevertheless, I’m grateful that you made it tonight.”

 

“I would've been here earlier, but your sister caught me at the door,” he said, chuckling under his breath.

 

“I would assume you're referring to Lydia,” Lizzie stated comically, no doubt in her mind.

 

He smiled down at her and pulled her closer. “You would be correct. And while she is very fetching company, I was anxious to see you.”

 

“And why's that?” she asked, tipping her head up to meet his eyes.

 

“Because you,” he said, rubbing his thumbs along the side seams of her shirt and dipping his head low, “are the very best company.”

 

\-----

 

_HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW THE EVENING WOULD END UP AFTER TALK LIKE THAT? SERIOUSLY?_

_I’m getting ahead of myself…and a bit aggressive._

 

\-----

 

Maybe it was the bright spotlights illuminating the dance floor, but Lizzie had never realized just how blue George Wickham’s eyes were. They had been relatively casual over the last few weeks, but very few of their activities had involved this close of a proximity to each other. His eyes were naturally bright as if they had captured and now emitted the rays of light from a day at the beach. The blues of his irises swirled with a generous mix of cobalt blue and a dark, steely gray that captivat—

 

\-----

 

_Am I getting a bit excessive? Just trying to keep you guys informed!_

_The point remains that his eyes were really damn blue._

 

\-----

 

“You're speaking rather openly tonight,” Lizzie replied, smiling demurely up at him. George laughed good-naturedly and glanced over her shoulder.  

 

“Anything for you, Peach,” he said distractedly, his attention drifting to something across the dance floor. Pulling at her waist, George turned her around, his back now facing the wall that had previously captured his attention. “If you don’t mind, would you excuse me for a few minutes?”

 

Lizzie, shaken from her romantic haze, stared at him and replied smoothly, “Umm…yeah…no problem.”

 

As he pulled away, Lizzie stood rooted to her spot, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. Other dancers quickly surrounded her, but she could still see George’s back as he moved through the crowd toward the bar. Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched, perturbed, as he downed two shots of some very strong alcohol, pushed off the counter, and left the room through a set of French doors. 

 

\-----

 

_I wasn’t distracted by the fact that some boy said a couple of pretty things to me. I’m not that naïve. I was, however, a bit disturbed by how quickly George’s demeanor changed. This might have been one of those “you needed to be there” moments, but whatever I was feeling at that moment…well, it was uncomfortable._

_Like Darcy-levels of uncomfortable. Which is a difficult thing to achieve if you aren’t Darcy._

 

\-----

 

Shaking her head slightly, Lizzie finally found her feet and left the dance floor. As she neared the bar, she quickly noticed Jane’s red hair, knotted up in a high bun, and sundress peeking out from the sea of khaki pants and pastel polo shirts.

 

“Jane!” Lizzie shouted over the music as she waved her hand to draw her sister’s attention. As she neared the group, she met Jane’s pleading, innocent eyes.

 

“ _Pull me away from the crazies!_ ” they said imploringly.

 

\-----

 

_I actually heard Jane’s voice say that in my head. It was weird._

 

\-----

 

“Jane!” Lizzie said as she reached her sister’s side. “There you are!”

 

“Lizzie,” she replied, clutching Lizzie’s hand and pulling her into her side. “These are some of Bing’s college buddies. I assume you haven’t met any of them yet.”

 

Lizzie didn’t see the need to acknowledge all of them individually, so she merely smiled in their general direction and asked briskly if she could pull her (uninterested and too-nice-to-say-anything) sister away from their riveting company. Their answer was a round of playful groans and protests.

 

“Gentlemen, I know she is a flawless diamond amongst the other less luminous gems at this party, but please, entertain yourselves,” Lizzie said, pulling lightly on Jane’s hand.

 

Across the room, the pair of sisters eventually found themselves seated at one of the small, round tables along a large wall of windows overlooking the extensive gardens of Netherfield.

 

Jane, perfect and eloquent Jane, sat pristinely in her seat and played with the hem of her dress, her eyes downcast. Watching her, Lizzie casually leaned forward in her seat and rested her elbows on the wooden tabletop.

 

“Well, they seemed…” she began.

 

“They were fine, Lizzie,” Jane said, not meeting her eyes. “However, you were rather rude to them.”

 

“I was…civil!” Lizzie countered. “And you didn’t look like you were particularly enjoying yourself anyway.”

 

\-----

 

_And when I say that, I mean that she appeared perfectly happy and cheerful and tranquil. But I’m her sister, and when Jane appears happy and cheerful and tranquil, it does not necessarily mean she is actually happy and cheerful and tranquil._

_It’s a complicated system._

\-----

 

“They were…” She stopped herself before meeting her sister’s gaze and smiling appreciatively. With a different line of thought, she continued, “Thank you for rescuing me, even if it was just for a quick breather. They were a bit…well…intense, I suppose.”

 

“Were they holding you captive?”

 

“Oh, Lizzie, no. It was fine, really. It…” Jane began, trailing off. She took a shallow breath and smiled brightly. “It’s nothing, Lizzie.”

 

Lizzie regarded her critically for a moment before asking, “Have you seen Bing at all tonight?”

 

Jane’s smile dimmed behind her dimples. “No, I’m afraid his attention has been elsewhere tonight, but that’s not really that surprising. I just would have enjoyed his company. That’s all. I had my expectations of the night set a bit too high, and now I’m feeling the repercussions of that.”

 

Lizzie attempted to refute her, but Jane continued on, “Anyway, let’s talk about something…something else. I saw you dancing with George Wickham. I’m so glad he could make it tonight!”

 

“Yes, me too,” Lizzie agreed halfheartedly. “I mean, of course, he saved me from having to spend another dance with Darcy.”

 

“Was it really that terrible again? Surely, since you two know each other a little better now, it can’t be so bad,” Jane said, smiling reassuringly.

 

Lizzie paused.

 

“No, it wasn’t terrible. It was…fine.” Holding her head in her hands, she groaned, frustrated. “We argued, but that’s not new territory. And then, George showed up, and everything was going well until he got distracted and left me standing there in the middle of the dance floor like I was the odd-girl-out at some homecoming dance or…something,” she finished lamely.   

 

The two sisters regarded each other for a moment. Jane let out a soft sigh.

 

“There are some things about this evening that we aren’t sharing with each other, aren’t there?” Jane said, her tone flat.

 

Lizzie deflated into her seat and tapped her noise twice with her fingertip.

 

Jane huffed quietly, her gaze determined. “Well, this is pathetic. You go find George, and I’m going to find Bing, and gosh darn it, Lizzie Bennet, we're going to enjoy ourselves!”

 

“Is this a girl power moment?” Lizzie asked, surprised by Jane’s decisiveness. Eyes wide, she watched as Jane stood from her chair and pulled Lizzie unceremoniously from her own seat.

 

“If thinking so will make you move faster, then yes,” Jane said as she pushed her sister away from the table. “Now go!”

 

“I’m going! Gee, Jane, so self-assured,” she said, nearly tripping over her own feet. She turned her head and smiled teasingly over her shoulder.

 

Jane merely smiled back, her intentions as well-meaning as ever, and disappeared through the hallway toward the front of the house. 

 

Spotting the French doors that George had left through earlier, Lizzie made her way toward them. The doors, made of polished wood and fitted with clear glass panes, gave way easily as she pushed through them. She found herself on a wooden patio that led to the sprawling garden below. Both the deck and the surrounding areas had been specially lit for the evening with large lanterns above the individual tables and twinkling lights peppering the trees. She hadn’t realized how many people were actually attending this party until she saw a vast majority of them outside enjoying the cool fall evening.

 

She meandered through the crowd in search of her desired company but had no luck. The area was too dark and populated for her to find anyone or anything. As she made her way back to the house, she glanced back at the garden and the party patrons and smiled softly.

 

Once inside Netherfield again, she wandered along the edge of the room and surveyed the groups of people collecting there. Apologizing quickly each time she bumped into somebody, she walked the length of the room and back. Thoroughly convinced that there would be no finding George in this crowd, Lizzie made her way to an isolated corner of the room.

 

She stood with her arms wrapped around herself. As she leaned backward, expecting to meet the solidness of a wall, she quickly found herself with no such support. Rather than a wall, Lizzie had attempted to lean against a light swinging door that led to the kitchens.

 

Upon swinging open the door, she could hear two voices, both heated, coming from the newly-discovered room. Catching herself against the door frame, she squeaked and attempted to pull herself up and onto her feet.

 

\-----

 

_They must have heard me and the very lady-like squeal I produced because the two people quickly stopped talking. I managed to get myself up on my feet, and when I turned around, I saw (of course) Darcy and George just glaring at each other._

_And then, I realized that they had turned and were now staring at me._

_That swinging door closed extremely slowly. Especially for a swinging door. Let it be known that I don’t get any favors from the universe._

 

\-----

 

“I’m sorry! I’m interrupting something, so I’ll just…” she rambled, pointing toward the ballroom. She turned to leave, the door closing loosely behind her.

 

Before Lizzie had taken another stop, George Wickham burst through the door, gripped her around the waist, and turned her to face him. As an afterthought, he glanced back toward the kitchen, a slight smile on his face, and kissed her firmly on the lips.

 

And the uncharacteristically slow swinging door gave Darcy ample time to see it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it:) Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	4. Two Seconds Notice

**Two Seconds Notice**

 

The kiss, unexpected and abrasive in design and execution, left Lizzie both too startled to react and weak in the knees. George’s hands, cradling her jaw, pulled at her roughly to keep her in place. She suddenly felt very much like a rag doll with little control of her actions and reliant on the support of another.

 

The kiss deepened quickly as George’s tongue stroked her bottom lip, and Lizzie found herself responding to it. She relaxed slightly into the new sensations and cupped his elbows with her palms.  

 

\-----

 

_It felt good. What can I say?_

_…_

_Okay, let’s all take a moment. A girl might be getting properly kissed for the first time in months by a very pretty, entirely appetizing guy, but that’s no reason for her to suddenly lose her head!_

_Yes, it was exhilarating and spontaneous and, honestly, how many girls can say they’ve been kissed like that? I had never **in my life** been kissed like that. _

_I had also never in my life been kissed by someone who tasted so much like whisky. And not even the good stuff._

\-----

 

The shift was instant. Her eyes wide and her frame suddenly rigid, Lizzie found her feet and pushed George away with her forearms. George, sensing the change, released her callously but without objection. Scowling and wrapping her arms protectively around her middle, she took a small step back and pensively watched her indifferent pursuer.

 

Very nearly speechless, Lizzie said the first and only thing that came to her mind. “You taste like alcohol.”

 

As if it was his reply, he swayed slightly on his feet.

 

“I didn’t know you had a problem with alcohol,” he said finally as he glanced quickly at the closed kitchen door.  

 

“I know the difference between a little and a lot of alcohol, George.”

 

He considered her for a moment as he met her gaze confidently. The sway of his frame was the only indicator that his drinking of the night had not been light or infrequent. Smiling piously, he stepped back, tipped the brim of the invisible hat on his head with two fingers, and merely said, “Peach.”

 

He strutted away and left Lizzie with a bewildered and flabbergasted look on her face.

 

\-----

 

_What the *beep*…_

_\-----_

 

“What the f—”

 

“Elizabeth!”

 

Lizzie swiftly turned to see her mother standing behind her, hands on her hips.

 

“Mom!” she squeaked. “What are…mom, what are you doing here?”

 

“Oh, Elizabeth,” Ms. Bennet gushed, gesturing dramatically with her arms. “I came to find your sister, Jane. Such a shame that we’ve all been pushed to different ends of the house! Anyway, I was talking to some of the other mothers—you remember Clara Martin and Lucy Cale from grade school? They remember you, dear. You really should call those girls sometime. Their mothers are just a delight!—Well, I was talking to them about Jane and Bing, and they both just thought it would be the best idea to see how their lovely courtship was going from our dear Jane’s perspective!”

 

Lizzie stared back at her, dumbfounded and speechless.

 

“Well, you're just no help to me,” Ms. Bennet huffed, marching away and disappearing across the ballroom.

 

Lizzie made a faint attempt to catch her in an effort to save Jane but promptly ran into Darcy instead.

 

\-----

 

_Figures…_

\-----

 

“Lizzie,” he began without preamble. He spoke quickly as if attempting to get everything he needed to say out before she argued with him. “Just be cautious. With George. He…”

 

Darcy paused, surprised that she wasn’t leaving or interrupting him. She merely sighed, crossed her arms, and waited.  

 

He continued, “I’m not trying to sully his name.”

 

“No, you’d never dream of it,” she said, sarcastically.

 

Darcy continued, his face neutral, “Besides, he doesn’t need me for that. He does it sufficiently himself.”

 

\-----

 

_I was quickly learning that Darcy wasn’t exactly wrong about that._

\-----

 

Darcy sighed. It was obvious that he had very little desire to argue with her over someone he found so reckless, but it appeared that he didn’t have many options. He was the one who broached the topic in the first place.

 

“My relationship with George wasn’t always so hostile,” he began.

 

“I know.”

 

“We resent each other—”

 

Lizzie couldn’t help herself. “And he harbors his resentment for you because you refused to give him the money, _the education_ , that your father wanted him to have. What’s your excuse?”

 

His reaction was so abrupt that Lizzie knew instantly that her statement had truly and genuinely surprised him. His eyes went wide and the edges of his mouth turned down faintly. His body, sharp and unyielding with surprise, suddenly sagged as he slumped his shoulders and closed his eyes.  

 

“Is that what he told you?” he said, defeated.

 

Suddenly uncomfortable and apprehensive, she stared at him and replied, “Yes.”

 

“He lied,” he said simply, dejectedly. He opened his eyes to meet her gaze. “He lies to everyone, Lizzie.”  

 

“Now, that’s just not fair,” a voice boomed behind him. With a fresh drink in his hand, George approached the pair. “Talking about me without the opportunity to defend myself.”

 

It was obvious that George had every desire to make a spectacle of his old friend. His brash and humorless entrance into the conversation had turned some heads throughout the ballroom. Darcy was quickly gaining the attention that he abhorred.

 

“This is inappropriate, George,” Darcy replied calmly. However, his glare spoke of his silent disdain.

 

“Inappropriate?” he bellowed unbelievingly. “Why does this constantly come down to propriety for you?”

 

Darcy sighed, but his answer was confident and controlled. “Because your behavior in a public setting _matters_ , not that you have ever seemed to take that into account. Actually, _your_ behavior in _any_ setting has never mattered to you. The thoughts and considerations of other people have never changed how you’ve treated them.”

 

George smirked, finished his drink, and took a slow step forward. “So we’re going to talk about Gigi now, is that it?

 

“George, this is an inappropriate conversation to be having _here_ ,” Darcy said, ignoring him. The slight dip of his eyebrows was the only indication that George’s comments concerning his sister were unwise. “This is a personal friend’s party with many attendees who do not care about our mutual animosity toward each other.”

 

“We share this mutual animosity for many reasons,” George replied as he disposed of his empty glass on a small table. His arms now hung loosely at his sides.

 

Darcy motioned to the large French doors that led to the Netherfield gardens and said, “We can take this outside if we must—”

 

“You’re the one that brought your dear sister into this,” George continued, ignoring him.

 

“ _You_ ,” Darcy emphasized, his tone strong and decisive, “brought Gigi into this when you kissed Lizzie Bennet for any reason other than because you cared about her.”

 

“I care about her.”

 

“Your definition of ‘care’ has always been rather different than mine.”

 

“So, you mean ‘care’ in the way that you ‘care’ about her…?”

 

\-----

 

_This was the longest conversation I’d ever heard Darcy involved in and—_

_Wait…what?_  

 

\-----

 

“Wait, when did this become about me?” Lizzie asked, taking a step forward to stand between the arguing pair.  

 

“This isn’t about you,” Darcy said, his tone shockingly gentle for a man who had been one-half of a shouting match just moments before.

 

“Of course, it’s about her!” George shouted, gesturing toward Lizzie and causing her to take a step back. “Darcy, you are so utterly ridiculous when it comes to the women in your life.”

 

“I’m a woman in your life?” Lizzie quipped, turning to Darcy.

 

“Lizzie deserves to know your true character, George,” Darcy said, ignoring her more out of necessity rather than sheer rudeness. “And she earned that right the moment you became involved with her, romantically or otherwise. I have no intentions of overstepping and being overly protective of a woman who is not mine to protect. But when you get involved with my family, my inheritance, my investments, _my sister_ , then yes, I take it personally. And if you think I’m just going to stand by and take it because of my respect for decorum, then you are foolish as well as heartless.”  

 

\-----

 

_Angry Darcy is sexy._

_Hell, verbose Darcy is sexy._

\-----

 

Lizzie could only stare at Darcy following his tirade, questions in her eyes. His gaze, however, never left George’s own as the two men glared silently at each other. She knew that the pair didn’t notice the eyes of the other people near them in the ballroom.

 

She was the first to speak in an attempt to nullify the heated exchange. “I really don’t think Bing wants you guys—“

 

“C’mon, Will! You’ve always wanted to sock me a good one,” George taunted, ignoring her. He stared down at Lizzie for a moment, his smile cocky, and continued, “And I just gave you another reason to finally do it.”

 

“I’m not going to punch you, George,” Darcy said, resigned. His gaze turned downward as he smoothed his hand through his dark hair and scratched lightly at his scalp.

 

“Oh, c’mon! You want to!”

 

“Of course I want to,” Darcy countered.  

 

Lizzie’s abrupt laugh startled all three of them.

 

\-----

 

_Everything had been so heated, and don’t get me wrong! I’m perfectly fine with confrontation. I thrive on it. But Darcy was sounding so absurdly un-Darcy-like that I laughed. Rather loudly._

_Because who knew Darcy had some manly sass behind that uncomfortable exterior._

_And then, he did something else that surprised me._

_He smiled. Small but genuine, William Darcy smiled._

_And, perhaps, for the first time, he was smiling at me._

 

\-----

 

Unamused, George ignored her and replied, “Then, stop being a coward!”

 

“Not punching you does _not_ make me a coward,” Darcy said, his tone softer than before and the smile still lightly visible on his face. His gaze remain downcast for a moment longer before turning up to meet George’s glare. “Who taught you that? I guarantee it wasn’t my father, who would no doubt be truly ashamed of your behavior since his passing. I gave you a chance, George! You’re the one that wasted that chance.”

 

George glowered at him.

 

Darcy continued definitively, “You can’t honestly believe that my father would have reacted any differently after you squandered his fortune on impropriety and selfishness.”

 

\-----

 

_It only took a moment for me to realize that someone was indeed going to get a nice punch in the face. And it wasn’t going to be George Wickham._

_And I suddenly realized that I wasn’t too keen on it being William Darcy either._

_So, you know, I did what I could with two seconds notice._

 

\-----

 

Either from drunkenness or inadequacy, George’s aim was low but quick.

 

\-----

 

_Could I have used my arms to block George’s punch? Yes, I suppose I could have. Could I have just moved Darcy out of the way? Probably. Could Darcy have just blocked it or moved out of the way himself without my assistance? Most Likely._

_I had two seconds notice, people. I was, ironically, acting on instinct._

_To protect a man I despise. I do despise him, right?_

_I think my shiny, new black eye might answer that question._

\-----

 

Her hair flowing around it, Lizzie’s head recoiled to the side as George’s punch smacked her hard on her right eyebrow. The blow, although clumsy and not nearly as forceful because of the whisky in George’s system, was heard throughout the ballroom and met with gasps and the screeching of moving chairs.

 

It took 20 seconds for Jane to reach her sister’s side to pull Lizzie’s hands away from her face and inspect the damage.

 

It took only five for Darcy to send a swift left hook into George Wickham’s chin.

 

\-----

 

_Nope, I was wrong. Definitely a Katy Perry music video._

 

\-----

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It quickly becomes obvious in this chapter that I think the world of Mr. Darcy. So I apologize if my characterizations are at all off on the other characters, but I understand that man and everything that he represents. So I tend to focus on him. 
> 
> Seriously, that man is a literary gift from God. He is the single most interesting fictional character in history. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry this took some time to get done. I got distracted by Cory Monteith's death (*cries*) and rediscovered Glee fanfiction through my pain. 
> 
> So one more chapter to wrap things up (especially with Lizzie and Darcy). I start graduate school in 1.5 weeks, so I will getting this last chapter out next week without fail.
> 
> And in other news, Emma Approved! So excited!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Enjoy!


	5. Do Better

**Do Better**

**\-----**

 

_If you’ve never been blatantly punched in the face before, then I have very little to offer you because I honestly have no idea how to describe the experience. It was a new experience for me, one that I would greatly like to not have again. But there it was. Or rather…here it is…_

_So just a quick word of advice. Try to not ever get punched in the face. Just avoid that particular route if you can._

_Jane keeps trying to convince me that my black eye looks_ way _better than it did last night. I do not believe her. Not even a little bit._

_Lydia thinks that it makes my face look more symmetrical. Because apparently one of my eyes normally “sticks out more than the other one.”_

_I…hmmm…_ Lydia _._

_Mom never wants to see George Wickham’s face in this house ever again. So my mother ended up having the most human and natural response to this whole incident. Ironically_.

\-----

 

Before any thought other than the obvious _owww_ could run through her head, Lizzie was being ushered away from the chaotic scene by her babbling older sister. Jane, who was normally so calm and so collected, was quickly losing her head.

 

“George Wickham! _George Wickham._ I am going to…” Jane mumbled, keeping her arm wrapped around Lizzie’s shoulders. The fight within her was evident. Talking ill of anybody was so against the oldest Bennet’s nature that she couldn’t seem to finish a malicious sentence. “Lizzie, what did he…? Why were…? I don’t—Lizzie, I don’t…”

 

Lizzie, hand covering her eye, took pity on her and said, “Jane, you don’t have to go defending my honor.”

 

“Well, I believe Darcy already did that for you,” she answered, glancing back at the scene behind them as they approached the doorway to the kitchen. Lizzie didn’t seem to hear her. Jane pulled lightly at her arm and continued, “I could take him though. _George._ ”

 

“Well, he does have awful aim,” Lizzie quipped, looking over at her. She grimaced in pain from the sudden movement. “Or just really good aim.  _Oww._ ”

 

“I know. I know. Let’s get some ice on that,” Jane cooed, pushing the door open and ushering Lizzie through it.

 

Lizzie groaned at the bright, fluorescent lights as they entered the kitchen. The throbbing behind her eye was quickly building the headache that was sure to accompany her throughout the rest of the night. Her face down and her eyes closed, Lizzie allowed Jane to pull her easily toward the ice machine. Leading her to the clean, stone countertop, Jane instructed her to pull herself up and sit.

 

“I think George might have some personal problems,” Lizzie said as she sat. She began swinging her feet back and forth mindlessly against the cabinets.

 

Jane hummed her assent as she rummaged around the kitchen. “It appears that he probably does.”

 

Lizzie pulled her hand away from her face and opened her eyes to watch her sister. She sighed, “Personal problems that I don’t need to be involved with.”

 

Jane, her hand resting on the door of the ice machine, turned to face her and smiled sympathetically, “That’s probably best.”

 

Watching Jane scoop ice into a small plastic baggie, Lizzie nodded her head once as her mouth formed a tight line. “Do you think I really need to tell him?”

 

After pulling the door to the ice machine shut, Jane approached her and shook the baggie to adjust the ice inside it. Her eyes sure and caring, she placed the bag on her sister’s eyebrow. Lizzie winced slightly from the cold.

 

“No, Lizzie, I think even George could figure that one out.”

 

Nodding again, Lizzie placed her hand on the ice pack to hold it against her head and offered a small but decisive, “Yeah.”

 

“You won’t see him again tonight anyway,” Jane said, turning and pulling herself up to sit on the counter next to her. “I saw Bing and Darcy escorting him out of the party.”

 

Scooting toward her sister, Lizzie rested her head on Jane’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and sighed, “ _Oww._ ”

 

“I know,” Jane said, wrapping her arm around Lizzie’s waist and squeezing lightly.

 

“I am pathetically incoherent,” Lizzie groaned.

 

“There aren’t always the right words to explain or comprehend something. You don’t have to say anything,” Jane said, rubbing her side. “Especially to me.”

 

Lizzie smiled into Jane’s shoulder and scooted closer.

 

Swinging their feet, the sisters sat in a comfortable silence. The coolness of the ice pack eased the pain of Lizzie’s headache. As she began to relax, her eyes closed, she heard the door of the kitchen crack open.

 

“Ladies?” the distinct voice of their host called.

 

“You can come in, Bing,” Jane answered, peeking toward the door.

 

After the door squeaked the rest of the way open, Lizzie heard two sets of footsteps approaching them from the front of the kitchen. She glanced up to see Bing and Darcy walking toward them, and both of the men had pained looks on their faces. Darcy, cautious Darcy, stood slightly behind his friend. However, once he saw her, Darcy’s eyes never left Lizzie’s face.

 

“You two look as if you were the ones to punch me in the face,” Lizzie said, adjusting the ice pack.

 

Jane offered the pair a small smile and said, “She’ll be fine.”

 

Bing took a step forward, his brow low. “May I take a look?”    

 

“Of course,” Jane said as she turned to her sister and slid down off the countertop. “Okay?”

 

Lizzie nodded and sat up straight as Bing stood in front of her. Having completely forgotten that he was a medical student, Lizzie was suddenly grateful that it was at his home and party that she was unintentionally assaulted.

 

“Lizzie, I’m so sorry,” he said earnestly, pulling the ice pack from her eye.

 

“You didn’t even invite him, Bing.”

 

“I’m still the host of this party. My guests are my responsibility. _All_ of my guests,” he emphasized.

 

“You aren’t responsible for George Wickham being an asshole and putting it on display tonight for all to see.”

 

“I… _still._ Anyway, we called him a taxi and got him the hell off of my property. He was obviously in no shape to drive,” Bing said, his tone darker than Lizzie had ever heard.

 

Lizzie smiled softly at his good intentions and answered genuinely, “Thank you.”

 

While he did his tests on her eye sight and checked her sore brow, Lizzie heard Jane exclaim in surprise and suddenly scurry around the kitchen once again. When Bing pulled away from her and assented that she would be fine, she glanced over to see Darcy with an ice pack wrapped around the knuckles of his hand.

 

Replacing her ice pack, she looked at him quizzically.  “Why…?”

 

“I…” Darcy began. He stopped himself and broke eye contact with her.

 

Straightening her back, Lizzie studied him for a moment.

 

“Guys,” Lizzie said, turning to Jane and Bing, “could you give us a few minutes?”

 

Jane simply nodded, slipped her hand into Bing’s, and pulled him toward the door. Once the door had shut loosely behind them, Lizzie turned to stare through one eye at Darcy as he fidgeted uncomfortably next to the ice machine.

 

Her face neutral but open, she broke the silence. “What happened?”

 

He pulled his eyes up to meet hers as he brought his arm from his side and rested it against his belly. She motioned toward his hand.

 

“I…um…I have a really smooth left hook.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “I forgot how much it hurts to actually use it though.”

 

Lizzie nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I thought you wouldn’t punch George, even if you wanted to.”

 

“I wasn’t going to,” he replied quickly. He sighed heavily as his gaze turned to the ceiling. “There’s a gentlemen’s code that I try and abide by in a public setting, and as you probably know, I am, first and foremost, a gentlemen. And a gentlemen never throws the first punch, warranted or not. But then…”

 

“But then?” she prodded.

 

“Well, you happened,” he conceded, turning to look at her once again. “And the code doesn’t say anything about throwing the second punch.”

 

“I happened,” she repeated, sounding unsurprised.  

 

“A bit, yes.”

 

“I took a punch for you.”

 

He thought for a moment, considering, a slight frown on his lips. He replied sadly, “That too.”

 

Her tone shifted quickly from calm to unbelieving. “Can you believe how low that punch was? Are we sure he was intending to hit your face and not your chest?”

 

“He’s always had atrocious aim,” Darcy answered matter-of-factly.  

 

She hummed softly and adjusted her ice pack. “He still cleaned my clock, so they say.”

 

His arms at his sides, Darcy stared at her face, at the clear pack covering her eye, before walking toward her. He came to a slow stop in front of her, Lizzie’s feet dangling between them. He brought his uninjured hand up to her face, overlapped her hand with his, and gently pulled the ice pack away to reveal her new black eye.  

 

“Oh, Lizzie,” he breathed, his throat thick.

 

Lizzie smiled softly up at him and said lamely, “You should see the other guy.”

 

His own laugh surprised him. “Really, Lizzie?”

 

“I know. It’s the best I can do given the circumstances.”

 

His smile disappeared, but his eyes remained focused on hers. “Lizzie, I’m so sorry.”

 

She considered him for a moment, her gaze thoughtful, as he pulled his hand away from her face. He watched as she placed the ice pack on the counter.

 

“You care about me,” she stated.  

 

Darcy froze, his frame rigid, but he didn’t look uncomfortable or like he wanted to climb out of his own skin.

 

\-----

 

_Progress._

\-----

 

Instead, he brought his hand up again to lightly swipe a few strands of her hair away from her face.

 

“I…” he began. His tone became more committed as he continued, “Yes, I care about you.”

 

It was a simple confession. For once in their time in knowing each other, something between the pair didn’t have to be complicated.

 

“I _am_ sorry,” he reiterates, his voice low and personal. He traced softly along the edge of her temple, his eyes following his thin trail. Feeling the cool touch of his fingertips on her skin, Lizzie watched with clear eyes as he pulled his hand back to his side.  

 

“Everyone needs to stop apologizing for George Wickham,” she said softly.  

 

“I’m sorry for other things as well,” he said. “Lizzie, I should have been upfront with you about George’s character and his…well, his flaws, how ever blatant they may appear now. I didn’t think it was my business, and perhaps it’s not, but you deserve to know.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me,” she replied as she folded her hands in her lap.  

 

“Yes, I do,” he said resolutely. He sighed and began, “George hurt my family in more ways than one.”  

 

\-----

 

_And so Darcy went on to explain…well…everything. And I’m sorry, but this is the part of the story that I’m just not going to share with the internet. It’s personal for Darcy. It’s personal for his sister, Gigi, who I haven’t even met._

_Just know that George is a douchebag. Honestly, that’s the moral of his whole story._

_You might ask why I believe Darcy so easily. I just…I just do. Just trust me on this one, guys._

 

\-----

 

Lizzie merely listened to his story without interrupting. She accepted his version of past events so easily, and she didn’t really care to understand why.

 

The pair was silent once Darcy had finished, but a question still remained behind his eyes as he waited for her to respond.

 

Her answer surprised him.

 

“I want to apologize to you.”

 

“What? Why?” he said, startled.

 

“I have a lot of reasons actually,” she replied honestly as she smiled cynically down at her lap. “I misjudged you. I misjudged everything about you.”

 

“I’m not exactly the easiest to ‘get to know.’”

 

“No, you’re not,” she agreed, smiling as she turned up her gaze to meet his. “All the more reason for me to have tried harder. I’m sorry. George was awful to you tonight, but he at least used to be your friend. I've always been awful to you.”

 

“You haven’t always been awful to me,” he said softly as he took a step closer to her.

 

Lizzie shook her head. “I treated you so unfa—“

 

“Honestly, Lizzie,” he began, placing his hands on the countertop on either side of her thighs and leaning in toward her. “I think we both made some mistakes here and came to some wrong conclusions rather quickly. Let’s just agree to…do better?”

 

She chuckled as she brought her hand up to wipe underneath her good eye. “Yes, let’s agree to do better.”

 

As he pulled himself back to his full height and let go of the countertop, Darcy offered her his uninjured hand. Scooting to the edge of the counter, she took his hand easily and pulled herself until her feet reached the floor.

 

After a pause, Lizzie released him to straighten the back of her dress. Noticing the ice pack around his knuckles, she asked, “How’s your hand?”

 

“Sore,” he said, looking down at it, “but it’ll be fine tomorrow. I’m afraid you might have your battle wounds for a few more days though.”

 

Darcy reached behind her, picked up her forgotten ice pack, and placed it gingerly against her eyebrow.  

 

Replacing his hand with her own on the cool bag, she shrugged, “Yeah, I’ll survive though.”

 

“I never doubted it,” he agreed, his smile small but there as he turned toward the kitchen door.     

 

“Darcy,” Lizzie began. He looked back at her curiously. “Would you please drive me home? I just…really have no desire to deal with my parents tonight and—“

 

“Of course,” he said without question. He waited for her to catch up with him before going any further.

 

The pair walked together through the kitchen. Once at the swinging door, Darcy held it open for her. They could hear the shuffle of chairs and the murmuring of voices from the ballroom.

 

Lizzie took a deep breath, readying herself at the door, and began, “There’s something else I want to tell you in the car. And I should probably go ahead and start with another apology…”

 

\-----

 

_So William Darcy now knows about my vlog and will eventually get to this video. Seeing as this is my 47 th video, that might take some time. But he’s tenacious. He’ll get here. _

_I would like to offer you, William Darcy, my formal apology for my behavior in these videos toward you. I know I apologized to you multiple times at Bing’s party and on the car ride home, but as you can sadly see from my videos, I have to validate myself on the internet._

_I didn’t speak very highly of you in my past videos. I didn’t know you, and I didn’t give you much of chance to show me the person that you are. My first impression dictated my opinion of you for months, and I chose not to listen to anyone else. I chose not to listen to you. I know you’re a quiet guy, and if I had just taken two seconds to think and realize that not everyone functions the same way or thinks the same way, then these videos would have a very different tone._

_I jumped without looking first. And I am so truly sorry for that._

_*beepbeep*_

\-----

 

Looking back at her camera as if to remind herself to delete this part of her video later, Lizzie shuffled through her purse on the floor beside her to find her phone. Pulling the device into her lap, she squinted at the screen. It was lit up with a text message from…

 

“Darcy?” she said softly to her empty room.

 

The text was simple and concise. Much like its sender.

 

_Coffee?_

Lizzie, her brow furrowed, glanced up at her camera again before replying.

 

_Did you watch all my videos already?_

 

His answer was simple.

 

_I did. Coffee?_

Lizzie stared at the screen, bewildered. She hadn’t even edited and uploaded her apology video yet (which she was still currently recording).

 

_You watched me tear you apart for 46 videos, and you still want to get coffee with me?_

Immediately, her phone beeped in her hands.

_Yes._

She thought for a moment and typed an answer.

_I haven’t even uploaded my most recent video redeeming you. And me._

Anxiously, she rubbed the edge of her phone as the reply came through.

_I don’t care. Coffee?_

 

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Lizzie smiled, turned off the recording, and replied.  

 

_Coffee._

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's done! What a fun summer project! And just in time because I have orientation for school tomorrow morning! 
> 
> I'm really proud of this little project. Even though it's not the longest fic or the best fic, I got the opportunity to create scenes I would never otherwise see between some of my most beloved characters. So thank you honestly for reading. 
> 
> I hope to write again soon. Love me some Lizzie and Darcy always.
> 
> I have a tumblr (sancallisto.tumblr.com) if you want to stop by:)
> 
> Thanks again!


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